


A Little Help

by BalefireFlatlands



Series: The Balefire [5]
Category: Mad Max (Video Game 2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-16 20:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16960998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalefireFlatlands/pseuds/BalefireFlatlands
Summary: Blas and Scab are finally getting along, and Blas is eager to help out.





	A Little Help

Blas Cap had run out of sulfur and was bored of making bullet casings with nothing to fill them with. The stockpile of ammo at Jeet’s stronghold was pretty impressive already, there wasn’t really a rush to make more, but a small party had been dispatched to try and retrieve some sulfur from Gutgash’s territory. Better to be prepared should whoever took over after Scrotus launch a full fledged attack on the lighthouse.

But in the meantime all he could do was wait. Which meant he could work on some less practical projects. Well, not practical for the stronghold anyway. He had two long metal pipes, some thick reinforced fabric straps, buckles and rope and it was time to get to work.

Scab eyed him suspiciously as Blas laid everything out next to him, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Gonna get you standing up.” He pulled Scab’s legs together, laying the pipes on either side of him. “See? The pipes support your legs, and you’ll stand on this metal plate. Should work.”

Scab seemed unconvinced, but at least he wasn’t yelling his head off like he normally was. He seemed to be a whole lot quieter when Blas was paying attention to him, a fact not lost on the rest of the stronghold who had to deal with his abuse and screeching while Blas was working.

Blas bundled Scab’s legs together, pipes on the outside fitting into a metal plate that sat right beneath his feet. Scab’s feet were a mess from him dragging himself around and catching them on the floor grating without noticing and Blas tied some fabric around them to protect them from the roughness of the metal.

“Here, hold this. Tightly.” Blas was tightening all the buckles, having some trouble working them closed with one hand. He needed everything to be tight otherwise Scab’s legs were going to collapse, he wasn’t even sure if they could support his weight anymore without breaking, the War Boy’s leg muscles had all but evaporated from disuse. Everything looked good, hopefully not so tight that he was losing circulation to his feet, not that he’d be able to tell.

“Righto. Let’s have a go at this then.” Blas put his arm around him, getting under Scab’s shoulder so he could pull him to his feet. Scab was heavy though, and awkward to hoist up when he couldn’t move his waist. But he was also incredibly strong, his upper body heavily muscled from dragging dead weight around on his hands, he dug his fingers into the wall, holding onto the metal posts there and using that and Blas’ shoulder to pull himself upright.

Blas grinned up at him from beneath his arm. Scab was standing. He couldn’t support himself and would fall if Blas moved, but he was standing. For the first time in over a year since his injury he was vertical. And for the first time probably ever Scab was actually stunned speechless, staring down at himself and then out at the Stronghold. He’d forgotten how things looked when his viewpoint wasn’t two feet off the ground. Scab was tall too, taller than Jeet, Blas only came up to a little above his chin.

He wobbled, his lower half not used to this position and threatening to topple him over after only a few minutes and Blas carefully backed up with Scab’s back pressed against his chest, laying him down as gently as possible. Immediately Scab twisted himself and threw his arms around Blas, burying his face in his neck. He was making sounds again, unidentifiable ones, no words, but he was clearly happy.

Blas smiled softly, wrapping his arm around him. His mind was already working on how he could improve this. If he made crutches maybe Scab could drag himself along. Except he couldn’t move his waist, couldn’t swing his legs forward. Well, Blas would think of something. But not now. Now he was just going to lie here in the moment with a squirming War Boy on top of him who seemed to be trying to meld with his chest. He rubbed Scab’s back, stroked along the muscles there.

He couldn’t fix him, but he could help just a little. And in the Wasteland, even a little was a whole lot.


End file.
